The Result of Dillyberries and Paintballs
by caughtinthefire
Summary: "Jeera did reciprocate his feelings? And what she wanted, wasn't casual? His mind was reeling. His emotions had exploded all over the place, like a bi-carb volcano. The Jarnocks could be dangling him over Kaku's lair and he'd still be struggling to process that Jeera James liked him back." - a fanfic on how BlakexJeera came about


**It is I, your humble fanfic writing slave, returning to present you lot with some fluff. Some Bleera fluff. Some Bleera fluff on how I think this lovely lovely ship all began.**

 **As you should know, I'm an ocean away from my TMC books, so I've been unable to reread Blake and get his personality right. Some may notice. Some may not. Some will notice how this is labelled a 'oneshot' but is well over 5000 words.**

 **Couple of mature concepts in this, but have fun guys. And as always, I don't own the Medoran Chronicles.**

/

Usually he avoided pissing her off, because Jeera James was scary as anything when she was angry. But on this occasion, Blake had been unable to help himself when he'd seen her making out with some strange guy who'd been running his hands over her in a way that had made his blood boil. In hindsight, he probably should have left Jeera to deal with the guy herself when she was more than capable. But at time he'd been too unsettled and agitated to care.

Blake sighed internally, still avoiding Jeera's narrowed, unforgiving gaze. His turbulent thoughts rolled through his mind as if on replay: _You don't understand, I'm in love with you. I can't stand seeing you with other guys. I don't want to ruin our friendship but I also want to be with you more than anything. You'll probably think I was friends with you to get in your pants but really I just want to be something more than a friend or one of the guys you keep around for casual relationships._

He wasn't sure how long the feelings he'd harboured for her had become romantic. He'd known Jeera since he was fourteen and her fifteen, ever since meeting her at that stupid gala thrown in honour of his dad's promotion. A close friendship had developed, and then at some point since they became young adults, Blake had stupidly, recklessly fallen for her.

The last year or so had been especially agonising. His feelings for her had suddenly intensified. Being in her presence was like being on a high. He'd often felt sick with jealousy watching her with other guys — always casual, because Jeera avoided the emotional side of relationships like anything. And then he'd feel sick with himself, because he wasn't supposed to be in love with her. He was supposed to be her friend. He'd witnessed her response before when a friend of hers was really crushing on her and had made a move. He was certain she'd react the same way as she had with the other guys before him.

And if Blake wanted to be honest with himself, he didn't want her to break his heart and turn her back on their friendship.

Then Jeera's voice fished him back to the present, sharp and angry. "I don't know what got into you, but you should know better. I can look after myself, okay? I've got enough guys thinking they need to baby me. I don't need you to join that list."

"Jay," he pleaded hoarsely, wishing more than anything he could just resolve this with the snap of his fingers. Either wind back time or convince her to forgive him. Both seemed unlikely. "I'm sorry, okay? But that guy —"

"Since when do you give a shit about what I do with other guys?"

 _Since I'm in love with you_. "You know I don't, usually." The lie slipped off his tongue like treacle, thick and sticky. "But other blokes usually hold back and they're respectful. I'd hate to think of you in a situation with a guy that sees you as an object and nothing further."

Jeera only made a scoff. After a long moment, she said quietly but firmly, "I'm not your damsel in distress, Blake. I'm your friend."

He wanted to wish she'd said his name with a unique affection, or that she'd hesitated before saying 'friend'. Maybe in another circumstance, it wouldn't be a figment of his own imagination. But right now, she was angry and indignant and and a little embarrassed. Her words were clipped and matter-of-fact. The combination of that and the context of her last sentence, was just as an effective blow as being winded with a wooden staff.

"I know." His voice had also lowered. Defeated. Meek. "I'm sorry, Jay."

Jeera held his gaze steadily for a long moment before her eyes softened. "It's okay. You've never done it before, so I suppose the situation must have really called for it." _Yeah, just think of it that way_ , Blake thought. "Just don't do it again, okay?"

"Pinky promise," he said, mustering a cheeky grin. Jeera returned the expression after a moment, and he instantly cursed himself for the way his heart hammered in his chest. Then she stepped close and pulled him into a hug, her head resting on his shoulder and her wiry, capable arms wound around his torso.

Blake pressed his face into his hair, heart achingly positive that his feelings for her were just a lost cause.

/

She'd probably strangle him if he ever said it to her face, but Jeera was unreasonably adorable when she'd consumed a few dillyberries too many.

That was, until it came to convincing her that it was well after midnight and time to get some shut-eye. Almost exactly like coaxing Evie to go to bed after she was on a sugar high from dessert. Which was why, after a useless forty minutes of keeping her out of trouble and failed attempts at getting her home, he'd eventually just scooped Jeera up with the intention of bringing her back to his place instead.

She was now cradled in his hold, giggling helplessly and swinging her feet childishly. There was a purple dillyberry smear on the side of her mouth, and her breath was basically fume of the faulted fruit. Sober-Jeera would be mortified if he ever told her about any of this, because Sober-Jeera liked to think of herself as cool, calm and collected. Blake had secretly decided that Dillyberry-High-Jeera was just as fun to be around as Sober-Jeera.

"Where're we going, Blakey-Wakey?" she slurred, her eyes misty despite her bright face.

"We're going to my place," Blake responded in his normal voice. No way was he using what he called the Nursery Rhyme Tone — that bright, perky tone that people always used when speaking to little kids. Gah, it always annoyed him to no end.

"Why are we going to your place?"

"To get some sleep."

"But I don't _want_ to sleep," Jeera pouted up at him, all puppy-eyes and her lower lip sticking out like a fish. Forget what he'd decided earlier; Blake would _definitely_ be telling her about this, including impersonations. She kicked her feet impatiently. "I think we should sit in the kitchen and eat ice cream together."

"We could have done that six hours earlier."

"Aw, you're no fun," Jeera exclaimed, teetering as he braced himself, supporting her weight with one arm as the other unlocked the door to his flat. The door swung open, he reaffixed his arm around her, and nudged her in.

As he closed the door shut with his heel and managed to rather impressively turn on the lights with his elbow, Blake heard the _click-clack_ of dog claws on timber, indicating his dog was approaching them. In his arms, Jeera perked up straight. "Where's the doggo?"

Blake's black Labrador-cross-border-colllie, Riley, appeared from the darkened hallway. "Hey, boy," he greeted softly. "Bit late back, aren't we?"

"What time is it?" Jeera demanded, searching the room for a clock. "What? It's three o'clock? Why isn't the sun out?"

Riley trotted up, his tail wagging wearily. Despite having been woken up, he was enthusiastic to see them. Jeera let out a startled sound as his wet nose passed across her bare ankle. Blake heaved an exasperated sigh. It was late, he was exhausted, and whilst Dillyberry-High-Jeera was entertaining, she was a lot more of a handful than Sober-Jeera was.

Still holding her close, he carried her down the short hallway into his bedroom, where he lowered her onto his bed. Blake had been planning on sleeping on the couch — sharing a bed with her, as secretly appealing as it was to him, was abhorrent in the name of their friendship. He eased off her shoes before draping the blankets over her. For a moment he contemplated cleaning off Jeera's mostly understated makeup for her, but he figured his results would be even more disastrous than if they just left it on.

Jeera mumbled inaudibly, rolling over across the mattress to face him. He kneeled down on the floor so their faces were level. "It's nice and comfy," she mumbled.

Blake felt the corner of his mouth hitch up. "So it would seem, if I sleep here every night."

"If you sleep here _every_ night …" Jeera trailed off and yawned. It was a rather cute yawn. "Then why aren't you sleeping here tonight?"

"Because you are."

"So where are you sleeping then, Blakey?" Her eyelids were drooping.

"On the couch."

"Oh. That doesn't seem very fair." Groggily, she extended her arm and rested her hand on the side of his face, cupping his cheek. After a moment of frozen hesitation, he leaned into her hand. Jeera had never once touched him like this, and he was internally savouring it. Her fingers were stained with dillyberry juice, her palms calloused, her skin still thinly scented of lotion.

"Go to sleep," Blake urged softly.

Jeera's nose crinkled in sedated displeasure. "I'm not tired."

He bit down on a snort. "I'm staying here until you do, then."

"You always do," she declared, delirious from fatigue. Blake paused, wondering what she was going to say. "You've always been there, Blakey. Right when I need you. It's silly, but I never say out loud that I like having you around. It's nice having somebody look out for you, isn't it?"

"It is," he agreed quietly. Her hand was still on his cheek. He almost wanted to stroke her hair or hold her waist, but that was the fine line of platonic and romantic. A tickle of delight nudged at him as she shifted closer to him across the mattress.

"There's not many people looking out for me, Blakey," she confessed, eyelids dangerously close to falling shut. "But I'm glad you're one of them."

And then she kissed him.

She might as well have slapped him across the face. Questions branded themselves in Blake's mind, all shrilly demanding exactly why she'd kissed him when she claimed that he was nothing more than a friend. His chest was constricted; he couldn't breathe, and not just because he was being kissed. He couldn't comprehend his surroundings or string proper thoughts together. Doubt of the kiss and want for her battled against each other furiously.

 _You can't take advantage of her. You can't._

Blake shot back from the kiss as if electrocuted. Why had she kissed him in the first place? How long had it gone on for? Had he kissed her back? And Jeera was lying there, breathless and sad-eyed — and high on dillyberries. It was the same thing as if she'd kissed him intoxicated on proper alcohol. His mind was correct, even if his heart was roaring for her.

He wouldn't force himself on a girl that was as good as drunk. He was better than that. Even in those halted, endless, blurred heartbeats, when all he wanted to do was draw her into his arms and kiss her back until he forgot his own name, it had felt wrong.

"Blake —" she started, suddenly sounding startling sober.

But he was gone, scrambling to his feet and getting away from her as quickly as he could, before something irrevocable happened that would sever his heart in two.

/

Blake barely slept that night, and when he did, he'd dream of a blue-eyed girl, fingers stained with dillyberry juice and gloating laughter ringing in his ears. A taunting dream, a manifestation of the girl occupying his bed, grinning wickedly at him and reminding him, over and over, he wasn't good enough. He didn't deserve her.

He woke up with a heavy heart, knowing it was true.

Riley was asleep on the floorspace between the couch he'd slept on. The dog was only dozing, so his eyes flashed open when Blake called quietly for him. After a long moment, the dog crawled up onto all fours and trotted closer.

He sighed miserably as he ran his hand over Riley's soft, clean coat. It wasn't a dream. Incredible, talented, kickass Jeera James had kissed him the night before, and it was all under the spell of a dillyberry high. Life must have really hated him to do that to him.

Footfalls sounded from his bedroom, and Jeera came out a few minutes later, mascara smeared under her eyelids, hair tangled around her shoulders, her shoes clamped in one hand.

"Thanks for looking after me last night," she said, giving him a winning smile. "God knows what I did after eating all those dillyberries."

It felt like a full stack of gym weights had slammed into Blake's stomach. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was paralysed. She didn't remember last night. She didn't remember cupping his cheek with her palm. She didn't remember talking to him. She didn't remember kissing him.

He wasn't sure whether to be miraculously relieved or just break down. He was pretty sure he just wanted to scream in frustration.

Jeera cocked her head. "Everything good, Blake? You're looking at me funny."

He schooled his face into a casual expression and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Just … surprised you recovered this quickly."

"That bad, was I?"

 _You have no idea._

For the first time in his life, he wanted her to leave. He couldn't stand her being there, blissfully unaware of just how much she was tormenting him. _He was supposed to be her friend, he was supposed to be her friend_ …

"I'll tell you what, though, I need some caffeine," Jeera said, marching into the kitchenette. Blake slowly got off the couch as she began to fuss over the coffee machine. "How many do you want?"

"Just the one." His voice was hoarse.

It felt like she'd stabbed him and then completely forgotten about it, which was basically the same. Only she'd kissed him. He'd pulled away as soon as it had registered, but it had been long enough. Long enough to still feel the ghost of her mouth over his, to memorise the taste of her, the pressure of her hand cupping his cheek.

His heart stampeded. _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_.

"You're quiet this morning," Jeera observed, clattering noisily as she pulled out coffee mugs. Her eyes were soft with concern. Blake wanted to scream. He wanted to forget just as she had. He wanted to kiss her. He didn't know which one he really wanted.

He shook his head. "Just tired. Didn't get a great sleep."

"That was probably my fault." Jeera grimaced apologetically.

He shook his head again. "It's fine." _It's not_.

He really should have known better. How many hearts had he seen Jeera stamp on, both unintentionally and on purpose? How could he possibly be so idiotic to believe he would be the exception? It was in her nature, because in her eyes, falling in love with her was a crime.

A crime he had committed, a crime he wasn't sure she'd ever find out about.

/

Jeera had intimidating friends. It came with being a Sword Warden.

Blake had known Dominica Harris for a fair while now — she'd been in Jeera's year at Akarnae, and had been an apprentice for Combat when Jeera had been for SAS — and the blonde certainly wasn't getting any less scary. Pair her up with Jeera, and they were as close to unstoppable as a pair could get.

And here she was, parting the crowd with her scowl and black Warden uniform, in the middle of a coffee shop.

Blake nodded coolly to her. "Hey, Dom."

Dominica didn't care for small talk, she always jumped to the point. This was immediately emphasised by her response. "According to Jeera, you've been avoiding her lately."

A creeping chill immediately speared down Blake's spine. Of course Jeera had noticed when he was no longer speaking to her half as much, when their interactions were becoming less and less when they were out with their regular group, when her ComTCD didn't chime half as much as it used to when he messaged her — _of course_ she had.

But Blake kept his composure. Dominica could rat out fear as well as any predator. "What makes her say that?"

Dominica only narrowed her eyes at him. "Why don't you tell me, since you're the one doing the actual avoidance?"

"I'm not avoiding her. I've just been … busy." A pathetic lie.

"You, busy?" Dom snorted disbelievingly. "The only time you're busy is when you've got a few female distractions that you're trying to pick from." She eyed him suspiciously. "Though I don't think much of that is happening when you're pining your ass off for Jeera."

Blake immediately choked on his coffee. _She knows_.

Instead, he said flatly, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're completely full of it, Blake," Dom responded. Usually he liked how blunt she was, but not in this circumstance. "I'm not blind. Our friends aren't blind. And Jeera isn't blind."

Suddenly it felt like an iron fist was squeezing down on Blake's windpipe. _Dom knows. The whole group knows._

 _Jeera knows._

"I mean, you do know what her gift is, and she's not a top Sword Warden for no reason. If she can smell a rat when it comes to major security threats, then I'm pretty sure she can work out when one of her mates has a crush on her."

"Dom," Blake said meekly. "Please stop talking."

The blonde only rolled her eyes impatiently at him. "Oh no, Blake. I'm going to keep talking, and making you squirm, until you give me some goddamn answers on why you've been avoiding Jeera."

"What, so you'll go report back to her? What does she care?"

"Stars, Ronnigan. I thought you were smart." Dominica face palmed, her agitation clear. He only got the surname when she was well and truly pissed off. After a long moment of consideration, she said, "She's going to kill me for telling you this, but she likes you, okay? So when you start ignoring her, or avoiding her, or whatever the hell it is you think you're doing, it's upsetting her. She doesn't understand why you're being a jackass and if you've had a change of heart, because I can tell you, it wasn't easy for her to accept what's between you pair."

Blake's mouth had long drifted ajar. Then he shut it, setting his jaw. "Neither of you understand."

"Of course we don't. That's why I'm here."

"Why are you here and not Jay?"

"You know what she's like when it comes to guys. Casual is her thing. So when she's having feelings for a guy and she wants to do things with him apart from make out with him and the like, it's foreign to her. And while I figured letting her kiss some sense into you would put you both of your misery, it wouldn't entirely smooth things out."

Blake couldn't comprehend what Dom was saying. Jeera did reciprocate his feelings? And what she wanted, wasn't casual? His mind was reeling. His emotions had exploded all over the place, like a bi-carb volcano. The Jarnocks could be dangling him over Kaku's lair and he'd still be struggling to process that Jeera James liked him back.

Then he stuttered out the stupidest thing he could have possibly said. "She's already kissed me."

Dominica cast him a disbelieving look. "No way. I'd definitely know about it if she had, but she hasn't said a peep."

"She has," Blake said, almost whining. The memory of that night was as good as painted on the back of his eyelids. "The night she had the bet with you and Elliot over who could eat the most dillyberries, and you all ended up wasted. I took her back to my place, and she kissed me. The next morning, she'd forgotten it all thanks to being on a dillyberry high, so I haven't said anything about it."

" _What?!"_

"It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I swear it happened."

"It's not the kissing part I'm not believing you on," Dom said, and Blake arched an eyebrow at this. "It's the part that she actually forgot about it."

"She was as good as drunk. Which is why I didn't kiss her back."

"You didn't kiss her — you know what, forget it." Dominica sighed, snatched the coffee cup out of Blake's palm, and shamelessly took a slug. "Honestly, as mad as she is for you, you'd expect her to remember your first kiss no matter what she's under."

Blake frowned and took back his coffee. "She's not _mad_ for me. I don't even think she likes me back."

He immediately flinched when Dominica hit him upside the head. Hard. "Hey! What was that for?"

"For being about as intelligent as a brick," Dom said, and hit him again. "And that's for making my best friend all anxious and worked up about you, as much as she was trying to hide it, when you were just being a typical, unobservant, male jackass."

"I take offence to that."

"So you should."

/

His fingers hovered over the keypad segment of his ComTCD screen, his thumbs nervously twitching this way and that. Dominica had demanded he apologise to Jeera ASAP. Usually he'd do that to her face, but she was currently away on a mission. Finally he went with the totally lame, _So I talked to Dom today_.

Her response came about forty minutes later, whilst he was feeding Riley his dinner. _**And?**_

 _After being hit upside the head twice, I stopped being a 'typical, unobservant, male jackass'_

 ** _Exact quoting? And what's that supposed to mean?_**

 _What else? And it means I owe you an apology_

 ** _You don't owe me anything._**

 _I call bs on that._

 _I'm sorry, J, for being a dick and avoiding you._

 ** _It felt more like ignoring_**.

 _Well then, I'm sorry for being a dick and ignoring you._

She didn't respond for another hour or so, and Blake spent that time being paranoid that he'd distracted her from her mission, and she was now paying some kind of consequence for it. And then:

 ** _You're an idiot, Blake Ronnigan. But I forgive you._**

 _So I've been told, Jeera James. So I've been told. And thx_

/

"I swear to God, Blake," hissed a voice in Blake's ear. "If you don't make a move within the next fortnight, I will hunt you down. I will find you. And then I will ensure you are painfully missing something very, very important to you."

"My dog?" Blake responded, feigning innocence. "Oh, Dom, you wouldn't do anything to Riley. What's he ever done to you?"

Dominica made an annoyed grumble. "That's not what I meant, and you most definitely know it."

"Since when do you play matchmaker in the first place? It's more of a Jeera thing, if anything." He tried not to let his voice soften too much on her name, but it was pointless.

She growled. "Just do as you're told."

"Got it. I definitely do not want to lose Riley," Blake said, and entered the paintball maze, which Jeera had suggested the group spend their Saturday evening. To his annoyance, he wasn't on the same team as Jeera. To his delight, Dom was.

"What was that about, man?" asked Elliot, who like Blake carried a gun full of bright blue paintballs — almost the exact shade of Jeera's eyes. He shook the particularly twitterpated thought from his mind. He'd never been a sappy guy, and he wasn't going to start now.

"She was threatening me."

"Ah. What was it this time?" Elliot said, loading his paintball gun. He raised the gun and aimed it, swivelling around. Blake heard the gun fire, and turned to find Myra cowering against a wall.

"Dumbass! I'm on your team!"

"Oh — er. Yeah. Right." Elliot said, looking flustered. Blake hid a laugh between his palm — he wasn't the only male in their group that Dom could accuse of being hopelessly twitterpated.

"Where's Reece?" asked Myra, looking around. "He's supposed to be on our team."

Elliot looked instantly crestfallen. Blake silently sympathised for him.

Before either of the guys could ask, a familiar figure, wielding the last blue paintball gun. It wasn't Reece.

"Where's Reece?" Myra repeated, her expression soon mirroring Elliot's. Blake rolled his eyes, certain that whilst he was definitely into Jeera, he didn't follow her around like a puppy dog. She'd probably hand his ass back to him if he ever did.

"Equal teams," explained Caleb. "Reece said it wouldn't be fair if one team had three Sword Wardens. So we swapped."

"Sounds good to me," said Blake, ignoring Myra's pout. As long as he still had the opportunity to fire paintballs at Dom, he was all for it.

The alarm sounded through the maze: it was time to begin.

"What about strategy?" Myra suggested shrilly.

"We don't need strategy!" Caleb responded. "Blake, you're with me!"

Blake didn't even have time to waggle his eyebrows suggestively at Elliot before Caleb seized his arm and dragged him into the maze. Dimly lit, hard timber panels splattered with paint of every colour, the occasional stray paintball that burst under his shoe.

"Is the other team of three?"

"Dude, Jeera and Dom wanted to go by themselves. We'll have our hands full with those two alone."

"What about Reece?"

"Ever seen him shoot? He can't."

Blake snorted, weaving around a corner. "And here he is hoping to impress My."

Caleb chuckled. "Pathetic, right? On your left!"

Blake automatically swivelled, in time to sight the end of Dom's blonde braid disappearing behind a corner. He cursed under his breath; he'd have loved to have shot the first blue paintball that she'd later be splattered with.

"Ah, better luck," Caleb said sympathetically. "It was short notice anyway, and she's fast."

He nodded, trying not to look too embarrassed.

They kept winding their way through the maze for another few minutes, encountering Reece: within ten seconds he was covered in blue paint. Caleb had copped a single orange one to his stomach, whilst Blake had one at his shoulder and another nicking his ear.

"See what I mean?" snickered Caleb as he reloaded his gun. "You wanna go seperate ways?"

Blake nodded, and ducked down a new passageway. His pounding footfalls followed him down the silent cement floor, and a figure darted ahead. Elliot, splattered with orange. He kept his own gun lowered but at the ready.

About eight minutes later, Blake let out a triumphant whoop when his paintball met its mark. Dom. It wasn't her face, but it was her hip, and that was damned good enough. Especially when there wasn't any other blue on her.

"I thought we were on good terms!" Dominica yelled, firing her gun. She was a far better shot, and Blake cussed as orange splattered against his thigh.

"Yeah, right!"

Then Myra and Elliot swarmed in, and Dom fled, quick as a fox. Blake didn't bother to give chase; he'd already shot her, and that was satisfying enough.

His next target was Jeera.

For another five minutes, he skidded through the maze, searching for a familiar mane of shoulder-length dark hair, or a set of blue eyes that would match the paint on her clothes. He ran into Reece again, who looked more like he was wearing a full blue body suit. There was even a few splashes of orange. Blake repainted those orange segments for him.

He was pacing down a passageway when he heard somebody skidding on a loose paintball. If it wasn't for the slip, then he would have never realised their presence — Jeera's presence, soundless with all of her precise SAS training. Blake spun around, raising his gun at her, surprised that Jeera hadn't shot him yet.

"You've fared better than most of your team," Jeera said, a coy smile tugging up the corner of her mouth. Her hold on her gun didn't waver.

"I can't say that you've surprised me," he retaliated. "Who shoots first?"

"That's not the way an actual gun fight goes down, Ronnigan," she crooned. "I could get used to how _polite_ your style is, though. Ladies first!"

Quick as a flash, she'd fired a paintball at his leg. Whilst Blake was cussing and flinching from the impact, she spun on her heel and took off, laughing gleefully. Unlike Dom, this time he gave chase.

He didn't expect to catch her. Jeera was faster and swifter and her leg wasn't still aching from a new paintball. But then she skidded on a paintball — _again_ — when she was turning a corner, and went sliding forward. Blake had somehow managed to gain on her — and just like her, his momentum threw him forward as his feet slipped on wet, slick paint.

Jeera was the first to slam against the wall, and Blake barely had enough sense to throw up his forearms before he followed. Having braced his arms, he didn't crush her, but there wasn't exactly _distance_ between them.

For a long moment they simply stood there, catching their breath, having completely forgotten they should be aiming their guns at each other again. Then Jeera did, and a triumphant smile crossed her face as her gun dug into Blake's back, exactly where she was aiming.

"Really, Jay?" he said, hoping to win her over.

"What's going to stop me?" Jeera challenged.

It was a stupid, reckless, completely inappropriate idea, that crashed through Blake's mind. If both he and Dom had been wrong about this all along, then he wouldn't only be getting his ass handed back to him, then everything between them would be ruined.

 _To hell with it_ , Blake thought, before taking Jeera's face in his palms and kissing her like his life depended on it.

Her mouth was just as soft and perfectly shaped as he remembered, and she didn't taste like dillyberries this time. His fingertips slid into her hair, shiny and thick, beads of sweat having gathered at the nape of her neck from exertion. The gun was gone from his back, clattering to the ground as Jeera pushed up against the wall and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back with a fierce, passionate intensity.

 _HolyshitIloveyoupleasedon'tkillmehowisthishappeningJeeraJeeraJeera_.

He started to pull back, having ignored the need of oxygen until his lungs were burning, and quickly heaved in three breaths before Jeera pulled him back in again. That reckless idea had been worth it. It had been indefinitely, inarguably worth it.

/

Her hand had found his ever since the paintball game had ceased and the blue team was declared the winners, and she hadn't pulled it back since. Blake mentally reviewed his appearance; sweaty and gross and covered in paint, grinning like an absolute idiot, holding the hand of the most incredible girl in the world.

"Somebody's happy," mocked Caleb loudly, and around them their group burst into titters and catcalls. Their audience fussed even more when he leaned over and planted an affectionate kiss on the crown of Jeera's head.

The group then began to break off, all heading home for some well-needed showers — but Jeera stayed, pressing into his side and her fingers laced through his. He looked down from where the last person, Reece, was stepping through a Bubbledoor, to find her watching him.

He said the first thing that came to mind. "I never suspected you'd be such a damned good kisser."

Jeera choked on a surprised laugh, smiling exasperatedly. "I honestly didn't even think you'd do that."

"What? Were you expecting me to kiss you?"

Her cheeks flared with colour and she looked down at their shoes. "My gift implied it might happen. I was hoping you would, so it'd be true."

Blake scratched at the back of his neck. "Oh."

"So …?"

"So what?"

"What happens now?" Jeera raised her gaze to meet his, curtaining her uncertainty behind a standard mask of confidence. "I mean, I know I often kiss guys without anything happening afterwards, but …" She bit down on her lip in a satisfyingly distracting way. Her free hand fidgeted. "I don't want you to become one of them."

His mouth dried. "So what do you want me to become, then?"

Jeera looked down at their linked hands. Like they would make the decision for her. "My boyfriend. My actual boyfriend, not something casual that I put a label on to make it sound more acceptable. That is, if you want to."

Blake was buzzing. Buzzing with nerves and what Jeera had just told him and the urge to kiss her again. He complied with the last one, tenderly gripping her waist and pulling her close. His mouth found hers again.

"I'm assuming that's a yes?" Jeera whispered when he pulled back, her fingers fisted in the fabric of his paint-splattered shirt.

"Yeah." His voice was rough. He squeezed her waist. "Jay, I'd love to be your boyfriend."

/

Riley was standing at the front door and whimpering longingly, his tail whipping to and fro — which always meant somebody was standing there, on the other side of the solid wood. Pinning down the unannounced visit to some family member, he ambled forward and opened the door.

"Your dog is pathetic," his girlfriend informed him as Riley bounded forward, his tail wagging even faster and his tongue lashing out, ready to lick.

"Better pathetic than barking his head off at you," Blake responded, leaning forward to grip Riley's collar and give Jeera a bit of space. Once Riley was no longer in the way, his girlfriend stepped forward and kissed him lightly.

Despite the casualness of it, he just about melted into his shoes.

"I never understand why people want dogs like that."

"What about guard dogs?" Blake suggested as he leaned around her, shutting the door.

Jeera made a shrug of consideration. "You see a fair few of those brutes as a Warden. Not a fan of those. I'm a fan of these." She gave Riley another generous fuss over.

Blake laughed. "Don't even think about it. Just because you're my girlfriend doesn't mean you get my dog as well."

"Aw. It'd be nice to have one or two of these boys around at Headquarters. But some of the sniffer dogs are friendly enough." Jeera said, following him into the kitchen and hopping up to sit on the benchtop. "How was work?"

"Ugh. Don't get me started on the Shadow Walkers lately."

Her eyes shimmered with amusement, and she reached out to massage his shoulders. Blake murmured gratefully, shuffling forward to lean into her; why oh why had it taken so long for them to start dating?

Because they were both thickheaded idiots, that was why. He could almost hear it being scoffed in Dom's voice.

But Blake pushed the thought of Dominica from his mind, because in this special haven of himself and Jeera, she didn't have a place. Nothing and nobody had a place, except for the pair of them and what was between them. In such a short time she'd become so important to him, more than any other girl had achieved. The thoughts still raced through his mind constantly — _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_ — but he was holding back from saying them out loud.

Not yet, anyway.

/

 **Ahaha, yeah. Blake's portrayal was crap. But oh well. What did you guys think?**


End file.
